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I yelled at you this morning. Again. There was whining. There was bickering. There was chaos. And I'm not even sure over what I started yelling over, but the overwhelming checklist of things I needed to get done in order to get you and your sister to the school doors before the late bell rang threatened to shove me right over the edge into a lack abyss of insanity. And then you accidentally spilled a glass of milk and that's just about when I felt the last ounce of patience fly out of my being. That's just about the time I blurted out, "I can't take it anymore! Somebody make it stop!" No one spoke as my words stung us all and then continued to just hang in the air as we shuffled out the door and into the car. But, now that you've disappeared through the school doors and are seated at your desk carefully writing your name on your morning worksheet, I'd like to take a deep breath and try to explain what I really meant. You see, what I really meant when I spewed those words from my beyond frustrated mouth was, I love you and I love being your mom. It's just that sometimes, I suddenly find myself gasping for air while trying to stay afloat in a sea of overwhelmingness. Sometimes, my daily to do list seems never ending and I have no clue how the hell those school lunches, snacks, homework, laundry, dishes, bedtime stories, baths, phone calls, emails, and all the other things that always pop up in between will get done in only twenty four short hours. I meant to say that I really do try to remind myself that all that stuff needs to wait sometimes and that I need to change my focus and zoom in on the stuff that's actually important, like how you take it upon yourself to stop and ask if I need help with anything when you notice me teetering on the edge. But I forget. Too often I forget. I meant to say that mountain of laundry, dirty dishes, and unmade beds will always be there, but watching you proudly show off your newest gymnastics move or listening to you read from your new favorite chapter book will not. I meant to say I understand mistakes sometimes happen because I make enough for you, me and the rest of our town and that spilled milk isn't worth the energy for me to yell or a reason for you to cry. I meant to say I admire the care and time you dedicate to getting your hair, outfit, jewelry, shoes and even you shoelaces just so before even considering the idea of walking out the front door of the house and that being five minutes late one day really won't ruin your school record forever in the long run. I meant to say being a mom is a hard job, but I was born to do it and I am beyond lucky I got such an awesome kid to take care of and learn what really matters in life from. I meant to say I know you're only seven years old and being seven is a pretty hard job too but you're doing an amazing job at it. I meant to say there will be plenty of other mornings when I lose my cool, and scream so much that you and I will both have no clue what I am yelling about or what the hell I am even trying to say and you will wonder if I forgot about this letter. But please never forget, what I really meant to say is...I love you.